The murder of Margaret Murdaugh and her son Paul in South Carolina has been a fascinating story to follow. Last week Alex Murdaugh (Margaret’s husband and Paul’s dad) was supposedly shot in the head while changing a tire. The bullet barely grazed his skull and now he’s in a rehabilitation center for drug abuse. Authorities originally called it a “mysterious double murder” but said there was no threat to the public. Paul was up on charges for the death of a girl who was thrown from a boat he was piloting. Alex was embezzling millions from his law firm and Margaret might have suspected this. She hired a forensic accountant shortly before her death. All of this is fishier than an aquarium. The family has as many deceased people around them as the Lori Vallow/Chad Daybell case. Next a girlfriend or two will appear, looking for cash and book deals. Bet Alex killed his wife and son then ran scared and faked his own attack. There really is no such thing as coincidences, especially not like this. Most of us can barely stay on top of the day to day tasks of life. How people like the Murdaughs have the time and energy to live such convoluted and bizarre lives is beyond me.
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Brace yourselves. It looks like our taxes are going to go up, way up if the President has his way. Remember when he promised the middle class wouldn’t see an increase? Is anyone shocked here? A President that lied about raising taxes? It’s easy for these life-long politicians. They’ve gotten exceedingly rich off our tax dollars while they’ve never held a real job. You don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to see the bait and switch coming. Every worker in this country is going to get soaked. How else can we pay for all these freebies? Here’s another win for bloated government. The President also wants to spend 80 billion to expand the biggest legal crime syndicate in the country (IRS). Sounds kind of like China, doesn’t it?
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A few weeks a ago I mentioned a book about dreams. That brought to mind a one day seminar I attended in the early 2000’s. The speaker told us to keep a notebook at our bedside. Before going to sleep she said, “Tell yourself to wake up immediately at the end of a dream and write down the details. You can do this and go right back to sleep!” I was amazed at what I wrote down and how bad my scribbling was. Didn’t think my handwriting could get any worse. I tried this for a few nights and found a common thread in my notes. It was about going back to the house on Lay Avenue where I grew up. To my surprise I found a whole part of the house I didn’t know about. Nicely furnished but lots of dust and I realized, “Why this was here all the time and I didn’t know about it.”
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This typing is tottering along today, but if I told all I knew I’d have to leave town and never be seen again. So let’s all speed on to a pure and useful day. I’ll try to do better next week.
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Til Next Week:
J.M.W.
